


Amerikate Christmas

by ThatsSoRavenclaw



Category: Marvel (Comics)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 17:41:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9835250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatsSoRavenclaw/pseuds/ThatsSoRavenclaw





	

“Kate, what are you doing?”

Kate was sitting at the kitchen table, leaning intently over something. America kicked her boots off by the door and walked over to the table, leaning over Kate’s shoulder. 

“I made us stockings!” Kate sat up straight and looked up at America. America pulled another chair over next to Kate’s and sat down. “You what?”

“I sewed them and decorated them so we can hang them on the mantle over the fake fireplace.” 

“You sewed.” 

“I can sew!”

“When have you ever sewed?”

“Um hello, I sewed that button back on your jacket last month.”

“You mean the button that fell off again two days later, so you tried to glue it and I had to pull my jacket away from you before you destroyed it?

“Okay ANYWAY, look!”

She held up the two stockings. One was purple argyle with a rim of purple fur. “Kate” was shakily stitched in white. The other stocking was red and white striped with blue fur lining the rim, “America” stitched in silver. Kate’s had a little bow and arrow charm hanging from its loop, and America’s had a little silver star. America reached over and lightly poked the little star, then stood up. 

“I’m not really into Christmas, but you can hang them up if you want.” She walked out of the kitchen, and Kate stood up and followed her. 

“What do you mean, you’re not into Christmas?”

America plopped down on the couch, grabbing the TV remote and turning the TV on. Kate sat down next to her. “I dunno. It’s just not really my thing. The family and the gatherings and the presents.” She shrugged. “I’ve been on my own for so long that I haven’t really had people to celebrate with, so I stopped caring a long time ago.”

Kate nudged America with her foot. “But you’re here with me now, and you’ve got the rest of the gang.” America shrugged again.

“I know, but I’m still not really feeling the holiday spirit.”

“Okay.” Kate’s voice had slightly less enthusiasm than it had had a few minutes before. “Is it okay if we have a party on Christmas? I already started planning it. We won’t do a gift swap or anything.” 

“Sounds good, Princess.” America leaned over and kissed Kate on the cheek. Kate attempted a smile, and she stood up and walked back into the kitchen as America started flipping through television channels. 

* * * * *

The next morning, Kate made sure to be out of the house by the time America woke up. She hung up the stockings, made a large pot of coffee, then left to get a Christmas tree. America may not be into holidays, but she was, and she wasn’t going to let anything get in the way. She wasn’t really close to her family anymore, and she was happy to have a group to finally celebrate with, to be thankful for, to buy presents for and spoil a little because she could. She had a great group of friends and a girlfriend she was head over heels for, and even though she wasn’t really into the religious aspect of the holiday, she wanted to celebrate the little family she had become part of over the past few years.

She spent almost an hour picking out a tree, making sure she got one that would fill the room just enough. She had someone help her tie it to the roof of her car and drove carefully on the ride home, being extra cautious when she made a turn or hit the brakes. By the time she got home, America was awake, sipping coffee in kitchen as Kate banged through the door, struggling with the tree. 

“Need any help with that?” America put down her coffee. 

“No, I’ve got--” the tree slipped out of Kate’s hands and crashed to the floor. Kate’s shoulders slumped. “Okay, maybe I need a little help.”

America stood up, walked over, picked up the eight foot tree with one hand, and brought it into the living room. 

“Show off,” grumbled Kate, brushing pine needles off her jacket and following America.

“Where do you want it, Princess?” 

“Hang on.” Kate rummaged through her pile of Christmas things until she found her tree stand and tree skirt. She set them up on the floor and instructed America to put the tree in the tree stand. She stood back with her hands on her hips, telling America to move the tree so the best part was facing forward. America sighed as Kate left the room and came back thirty seconds later with a cup of water. Kate crawled under the tree and tightened the tree stand’s screws into the tree, then poured the cup of water in. She slithered back out and stood back again to look at the tree while America let go of it and walked back into the kitchen. Kate called a thanks out to her, who waved her hand in a “no big deal” motion before rinsing off her hands and returning to her coffee. 

Kate looked at her for a second and convinced herself not to be bothered by America’s apathy. She set to work pulling her lights and ornaments out of boxes, carefully arranging everything just so. The last ornament she hung was a small picture frame containing Kate’s favorite picture of her and America--it had been taken at Kate’s birthday party and featured America smirking at the camera with her arm around Kate’s shoulders, and Kate looking up at America, her arm around America’s waist. Kate hung the picture frame ornament in the center of the tree and then turned on the lights, smiling as the white lights filled the room with a soft glow. 

America came up behind Kate and squeezed her waist. “Looks good, Princess,” she said before she left the room and went upstairs. Kate watched her go, then started unpacking the rest of her Christmas things, putting a garland on the mantle above the fake fireplace before hanging the stockings, setting up a small ceramic village on the table they never used in the dining room. She slipped a few small candy canes in America’s jacket pocket because she knew she liked them before going upstairs to see if America wanted to watch a movie. 

* * * * *

The week before Christmas, Kate snuck in presents, wrapping them when she knew America wouldn’t be home. A new pair of boots. The second season of their favorite reality show on DVD. A bottle of America’s favorite whiskey. She also bought smaller things to wrap and put in America’s stocking--lighters, since America had immediately taken to California’s liberal policies on marijuana; boot laces, because hers were always breaking; a CD of slow jams, because America had joked once about wanting to have sex to 90s R&B lube, for, well, reasons. America’s stocking slowly filled up, while Kate’s stayed empty. Kate checked on a daily basis, but nothing was in there. There wasn’t anything under the tree for her, either; she told herself (and Billy and Teddy, when they asked) that it didn’t matter, that she was buying America things because America was her favorite and she liked gift giving and really, it didn’t matter, because Christmas was about family and friends and love and not presents, and she insisted so much that Billy and Teddy stopped asking and just shot each other looks instead, pretending not to notice that Kate was insisting louder and harsher and was pouring their drinks angrier and lapsed into a sad-looking silence whenever the group hung out. 

America, on the other hand, seemed totally normal. She complimented Kate’s efforts, commented on the ornaments, laughed with the group, ate all the candy canes in two days (Kate ended up going to Costco and buying as many candy canes as she could so she could hide them in a closet and replenish as needed) (but really, America, how many candy canes did you need?). She seemed so nonchalant about everything, not noticing that Kate was becoming quieter and quieter. She still pulled Kate to her when they watched movies, still kissed her first thing in the morning and right before she went to sleep, still snuggled into Kate as the big spoon every night. Kate didn’t want to bring up the topic of Christmas again, since America had told her from the beginning that it wasn’t her thing. 

Christmas Eve night, Kate put the finishing touches on America’s stocking--edible candies from America’s favorite shop, a pass to Disneyland--and looked over at her own stocking. Still flat. Still empty. Her shoulders sagged a little as she checked to make sure the doors were all locked before going upstairs (she left the tree on, a family tradition from when she was little) and climbing into bed. America was already there, and she moved over to Kate’s side of the bed once Kate had settled in. 

“Night, Princess,” she mumbled into Kate’s hair. 

“Night,” Kate replied quietly. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, and then another. She knew that on the surface, she sounded like a spoiled brat--she had a great girlfriend, work was going well, they had a warm home and great friends, and here she was, upset that she wasn’t getting presents for Christmas. But she had been so out of touch with her family for years, and she was happy to finally have a family that she had built on her own and was so excited to celebrate holidays and events with them, and having a girlfriend who clearly did not care stung a little. Everyone else was going to come over later on Christmas, so they would all do gifts together (Kate had bought gifts for everyone and planned on saying they were from both her and America, since America hadn’t brought it up) and have dinner, which Kate was looking forward to, but her heart still ached a little because her girlfriend didn’t care at all. She wiped the tears off her face and America pulled her a little closer in her sleep, and eventually Kate drifted off, restlessly dreaming of icy snowball fights and sledding that ended in crashes and other winter disasters. 

* * * * *

Kate had expected to get up early Christmas morning, but she slept until just after 10, waking to the scent of coffee and America saying “wake up, Princess.” She blinked her eyes open. America was sitting on the edge of the bed, sipping a mug of coffee, and Kate sat up and reached for the mug. America handed it to her and put her arm around Kate’s shoulder. 

“Merry Christmas.” 

Kate grumbled in response, continuing to drink her coffee. Bah humbug. All she cared about was coffee. 

“Looks like Santa came. Do you want to go downstairs?” 

Kate glanced over at America and snorted. Right. Sure. Santa. 

“Seriously. Looks like the North Pole down there.” America took back her mug and winked at Kate, then got up and went downstairs. Kate grabbed her bathrobe, curiosity getting the best of her, and followed America downstairs. She got to the edge of the living room and gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, America watching with a bemused smirk. 

It was snowing. Inside. Snowing inside the living room. Snow was collecting on the coffee table and random parts of the floor, but not on the tree or the presents or the couch, somehow. Actual snow. The white lights from the tree were reflecting off the snow, making the room glow in a magical haze Kate hadn’t experienced since she had left the east coast. Kate’s stocking was stuffed to the brim, and the amount of presents under the tree had doubled. 

“How---” Kate started. She couldn’t get out the rest of the question. America leaned down, pushed some of the snow on the coffee table out of the way so she could set down her coffee, then walked up behind Kate and wrapped her arms around Kate’s waist. Kate leaned back so she was enveloped in America’s arms, still staring at the wonderland that was their living room. 

“The snow’s magic. Someone owed me a favor,” America murmured, her mouth close to Kate’s ear. Kate wove her fingers through America’s. “And I knew you were really into Christmas and I wanted to keep all of this a surprise.” Kate turned back and looked at her. 

“So you let me think you didn’t care at all?” 

“I mean, I don’t. Like I told you, Christmas isn’t my thing.” She turned Kate so Kate was facing her. “But you care about Christmas, and I care about you, so I care about Christmas.” She kissed Kate’s forehead. “I love you, Princess. I want to make you happy.” 

Kate reached up and wrapped her arms around America’s neck. “I love you, too,” she mumbled into America’s hair, as America pulled her closer. She looked up. “But you’re still a huge asshole for making me think you didn’t care at ALL.” 

America winced. “Okay, maybe I should have been a little more enthusiastic.” 

Kate snorted again. “You think?” 

“I just wanted to surprise you.” 

“Well, you did.” Kate leaned up and kissed America. “This is incredible.” 

America smiled down at her. “Do you want to open presents?”

“After I get some coffee.” 

Kate practically skipped to the kitchen to pour a giant mug of coffee for herself, and when she returned to the living room, America was sitting on the floor, eating a candy cane and dividing the presents into piles. Kate sat across from her and put her coffee mug in the snow, not caring if her coffee got a little cold. She unwrapped gift after gift--a set of regular arrows; a set of cool arrows (“BOOMERANG ARROW!” “Yeah, you didn’t stop talking about the one Clint had, so”); rollerblades; and a bunch of random other things, including a picture of her and America, taken the day they’d become official, in a frame made of interwoven purple, red, and blue wire. Kate stood up and got their stockings, carefully handing America’s to her. America smiled as she took it, looking at the decorations on the front.

“Did I ever tell you how cute and sweet I think these are?”

“No, you basically grunted and left the room.”

“I don’t grunt.”

“Yes you do, you grouch.”

America flung a container of lube at Kate. “I do not.”

Kate caught the lube and flung it back, hitting America’s shoulder. “You do too.”

America scooped up some snow. 

”America, don’t even think about it.”

America shaped the snow into a ball. She tossed it into the air and Kate threw an arrow at it, so it exploded snow all over America. America responded by tackling Kate into the snow, Kate shrieking and pelting her with candy canes. Kate looked up at her girlfriend, head in the snow, and America leaned down and kissed her. 

“Merry Christmas, brat.”

“Merry Christmas, grouch.”


End file.
